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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188228">Sunrise.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iemon_tree/pseuds/Iemon_tree'>Iemon_tree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Gen, and while being compared to said dictator who literally had him decorate his own funeral??, anyway back to tubbo bc ao3 deleted my og tags, anyway yeah tubbos character makes me sad and feel a lot of feelings, brief contemplation of death?, even more copious amounts of parentheses, honestly im just., ish?, like he went from being a war veteran to being a spy for a dictator, like. damn., sorry for ramblin in the tags its kinda my brand by now 😌, this is sad to balance out the overwhelming fluff in technocurls :), this poor kid has been through a Lot., to becoming president to exiling his best friend to thinking said best friend is dead, to being executed by his brother to having both his brothers destroy his home, tubbos character makes me so? sad?, what can i say im attached to those fuckers, yes i am a tubbo apologist what about it??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:49:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iemon_tree/pseuds/Iemon_tree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tubbo watches the sunrise and contemplates things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>None, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, its literally just tubbo, kind of?? - Relationship, okay ig maybe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>currently hyperfixating on the dream smp [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunrise.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sorry not sorry &lt;3</p>
<p>i am just very Emotional over tubbo's arc rn and u have to deal with the aftermath of my brain &lt;3</p>
<p>this is...literally unedited so pls dont call me out in the comments thank u!! drink some water and make sure to get some good sleep :)<br/>i have some fluffy fics planned (aka just technocurls rn and maybe a few oneshots LMAO)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He no longer recognizes the boy in the mirror, he realizes one morning. He stares at his reflection, at sharp horns curled around soft ears, dark bruises etched across his lash line, at the slight tremble and twitch of his hands. He exhales a shaky breath, the bitter taste of coffee lingering on his tongue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo no longer recognizes the boy in the mirror. Shakily, he ties his tie, a memory of much larger hands adjusting the sleek fabric, a coffee-scented voice teasing him about the messiness, a whiskey-scented snarl scolding him over being imperfect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he pulls his blazer around his thin, frail form, all he sees is the black of his previous suit jacket, a magma-colored </span>
  <em>
    <span>X</span>
  </em>
  <span> shrouded in black pinned to the collar. A heavy hand holding his shoulder in a bruising grip, the low command of </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Show them the doors,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo doesn’t attempt to smile at the boy in his reflection. Instead, he gives a weary sigh, and exits his room. He pointedly ignores the enticing scent of fruit and muffins wafting from his kitchen, instead choosing to exit his humble (cage-like) abode, taking in the still-dark sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows nobody else is awake. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear the whispers of his past, the screams of revolution, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mellohi</span>
  </em>
  <span> drifting through the air, bees buzzing around him, the scent of flowers in his nose and the taste of honey on his lips. He smiles with chapped lips, bitterly wishing for a life he no longer has. Tubbo watches the sun rise, watches the glimpses of his past brush past his fingertips, teasing his mind with long-gone feelings of hope and joy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s getting tired of the sunrise. Perhaps, one day, he will wake up to the sun high in the sky and a solid body beneath his head, fingers delicately running through his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps he won’t wake up at all, instead greeting the afterlife with overwhelming relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo sighs once more, watching his country slowly come to life with the risen sun. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Is it even his country anymore? He gave into Dream’s wishes. The heart of L’Manburg is gone. His people are starting to leave. L’Manburg is becoming a husk of what it once was. Perhaps Wilbur was right. Perhaps it was never meant to be.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy president watches the sun rise, entertaining a life in which he followed his heart and ran with his best friend by his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>“We could run away, Tubbo. No more wars, no more fighting! We could run, and never come back!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“But what about L’Manburg?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wilbur is </span>
  </em>
  <span>gone</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Tubbo! L’Manburg is fucked! We could...we could </span>
  </em>
  <span>leave</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know…” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy is quiet for a few moments. Tubbo, for once, doesn’t know what he’s thinking. “Maybe you’re right,” Tommy murmurs. </span>
  </em>
  <span>(</span>
  <b>No, I’m not,</b>
  <span> Tubbo thinks.)</span>
  <em>
    <span> “We can still save L’Manburg.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>(</span>
  <b>No, we can’t.</b>
  <span>) </span>
  <em>
    <span>He smiles reassuringly at his shorter friend. “We can still save Wilbur.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>(</span>
  <b>It will be all useless.</b>
  <span>)</span>
  <em>
    <span> Tubbo returns the smile, wrapping his friend in a tight embrace. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbo raises his fist. “Together till the end?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>(</span>
  <b>Is this the end?</b>
  <span>) </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Tommy gently bumps his fist against Tubbo’s. “You and me against the world.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> (</span>
  <b>The world is winning.</b>
  <span>)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tubbo watches the sunrise, wishing for the world to stop, just for a few moments. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yall have been so supportive and i just wanted to say i love u uwu</p>
<p>also: in case u didn't pick up on it, during the italics part, tubbo's present-day thoughts are in bold :)</p>
<p>finally: do i care whether its l'manBURG or l'manBERG? no. im spelling it burg bc it looks better to me 😌😌</p></blockquote></div></div>
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